


Waffles

by buckytheplumsoldier



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cooking, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, No Plot, Steve is a Mom, Stucky - Freeform, Waffles, just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 14:40:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15843372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckytheplumsoldier/pseuds/buckytheplumsoldier
Summary: Prompt: stucky + waffles(Title is so original, I know)





	Waffles

**Author's Note:**

> So i asked for ship prompts/requests on my instagram and this was the first one that popped up. it's a cute lil drabble-ish sort of thing, nothing really exciting, but i wrote it while on the train from munich to starnberg :))

Steve was going to be honest with himself - he's pretty inexperienced in the world of cooking.

On the off chance that he did cook, and that was back in the 30's where everything was boiled and unseasoned, it was usually something small, a dinner his mother had showed him how to prepare for the two of them whenever they had money to spare. That usually consisted of a simple broth of chicken or a mixed green salad with whatever vegetables were fresh or seasonally available. They were usual small meals Steve found himself making often.

When it came to the present, however, everything was different. What was once considered a healthy preparation of meat was now forbidden and strictly advised against. Boiling food was replaced by grilling, sauteing, baking, frying; if there was a way to heat it, there was a way to cook it.

Steve gazed, dumbfounded, at the recipe in front of him, numbers, units, and steps muddling together in one blur of text. The measuring cups, new and unused, screamed at him to stop being such an idiot. He was Captain America. His face was plastered on promotional cans of beans and cereal boxes. Cooking was a wholesome and popular trademark of America.

He knew sleep had nothing to do with it, as although it was well before dawn and Steve hadn't slept a wink, he felt adrenaline and energy pumping through his veins. Maybe it was the serum talking, but he could, theoretically, last days on end without sleep. The human portion of him begged to disagree, but that didn't matter when a box of waffle mix was staring right at him.

He took the carton, turning it around in his hands and viewing the directions as if they were in a foreign language - of course he understood it, but the concepts behind it were all so unusual. Frankly, it scared him. He could easily burn this apartment to the ground with one naïve move. The waffles on the box taunted him, almost like he could sketch out their menacing faces telling him to get on it with it before Bucky woke up.

And so he started, bearing through his wits and stirring water into the mix, adding sugar and little specialties he found lying around when Tony would take him shopping and force him to buy these "necessities". He supposed they came in handy now, he remarked, pouring the batter into a pan. He never thought he would need blueberries (hell, he wasn't sure if he even liked them) until now.

He'd seen how domestic Tony and Rhodes were, seen how Tony would lay his life down for the colonel in the form of candle-lit dinners by Central Park Lake and homemade cookies (which were made with the help of JARVIS, but Steve wasn't telling anyone). Steve was arguably known as the man out of time, and he supposed that title applied to him and Bucky. The things Tony and Rhodes did out in the open was something Steve never even thought possible, especially around his time. It made him feel lesser in a sense, that he was too stuck in his own world to try and attempt to woo Bucky in such a setting. His way of stepping out of his bubble of the 1940's included waffles, blueberries, and hot coffee.

It was a steady stream of progress, but he managed to not burn down any appliances or apartments once the sun began to rise over the New York City horizon. He could already hear the bustling of people, cars honking, buses revving, and commuters setting foot on their way to work. He set four waffles, two on each plate, as he listened to the early morning traffic. The waffles weren't perfect, actually more flat and crispy than airy and fluffy as the recipe on the box had said they would be, but they were good enough, as Steve may or may not have sneaked a small crumb off one of his for a taste test. He rummaged around in the fridge, pulling out a plastic carton of fresh blueberries. He took small handfuls, spreading them around artistically until he was satisfied with the aesthetic.

He drizzled maple syrup in a zig-zag manner, fetching two mugs for the coffee he had brewed earlier. He prided himself on being able to find the best bags of hazelnut roast, something he and Bucky enjoyed in the early mornings before a mission or when they cozied up during cool nights. Taking both plates in one hand and holding the mugs by their handles in the other, he made his way to their shared bedroom, careful not to step on the floorboards that creaked obnoxiously loud or drop something on his way.

Steve entered the room, the morning light seeping its way through the thin curtains, bathing Bucky, who was currently fast asleep on his side, in a golden hue. His hair, greasy from stress and lack of bathing, was splayed across the pillow where his arm was slid under. Faint snoring could be heard, but it wasn't loud enough to the point where Steve found it irritating.

He set the plates down at the edge of the unmade bed, careful to avoid the tent of Bucky's feet under the blankets, and placed the mugs on the nighstand. Steve was sure the waffles were now cold and the syrup made them soggy and gross, but that didn't stop him from crawling in behind Bucky and pressing soft kisses onto bare skin where flesh met metal. He wrapped his arms around the other, bringing them close together, and Bucky began to stir, a soft groan emitting deep within his throat.

It was kind of perfect like that, Steve supposed, as Bucky rolled over onto his back and the two locked eyes. It felt like gazing into some deep abyss, where storms raged at every hour of the night in an attempt to shield an oasis of gold. There was something lurking behind those rough waters, and although Steve wasn't quite there to see it, it was enough.

Again, it was kind of perfect like that anyways.


End file.
